Surrender Forever (Surrender Trilogy Book 3)

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Surrender Forever (Surrender Trilogy Book 3) Page 6

by Raven J. Spencer


  “The jet is waiting, Carter,” Nick reminds her. “Linda will go with you. The rest of us will hold the fort here, don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” Carter sighs. “I just wish I could stay home for a few days in a row for once.” We share another kiss, and then they are gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the foyer, somewhat stunned.

  I can still feel the warmth of the morning sun—and the sand in my shoes. I decide to clean up first and then see what I can do to keep myself busy for approximately three days. I also resign to the fact that “slow” is not something we can expect often with the lives we lead.

  After changing into comfortable Sunday afternoon clothes, I prepare some notes for Traci on my laptop, get my study notes in order, and when that is done, I pick up a book from the library, one of the latest acquisitions that I take to the downstairs living area. I get lost in the story soon, and the first time I look up, it’s getting dark outside. My stomach is growling, and I realize we never had lunch.

  I decide to get a cold snack from the kitchen and continue reading after, too spell-bound to bother with a full meal.

  Studying the choices in the fridge, I jump and hit my head when I hear a voice behind me.

  “Interesting reading choice, Penny.”

  I close the door and turn around, surprised to see Nick. “Thanks…I guess. I thought you were in Chicago.”

  “I didn’t go,” he says. “Can we talk?”

  I’m dumbfounded, to say the least. Being the top guy of Carter’s security staff, I met Nick early on, and of course he’s around…but in all this time he hasn’t spoken more with me than a few polite words here and there. I can’t imagine what this could be about—and besides, shouldn’t he rather be around Carter, given what happened?

  “Sure. Let’s go to the living room.” I pick up my book.

  He stands in the doorway. “Not here.”

  One possible interpretation of this strange scene springs to mind, making my stomach clench. “Is this about Carter? Is she okay? You tell me right now!”

  “Carter is fine,” he says with a dismissive gesture. “It’s you I need to talk to.”

  “Me? I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s go. I’ll explain everything to you.”

  “Wait a minute. Shouldn’t I tell Marlene, in case…”

  “You don’t have to worry about anything.” I hesitate, unsure what he expects of me, and if I really want to leave the house. However, I know Carter trusts him unconditionally—to take care of things in my “case” even. There’s no need to worry. Unbidden, the scene at Carter’s Caribbean estate comes to mind, when the pretend FBI agent tried to convince me that she was involved with bad people, and my best bet was to come with him. I wasn’t convinced by his words, but the gun he was carrying.

  This is different. I have no doubt Nick carries a gun. That’s not the point.

  Once we’re in the car and out on the road, he’s silent. I feel uncomfortable—there’s really not much we have in common except—Carter. Inappropriately, I wonder if he ever thought he had a chance with her. Yeah, like that’s going to make me feel better.

  Then again, men are like that sometimes, no matter how smart and kind, some have trouble dealing with the fact that they’re not a woman’s choice, for what reason ever. A man I said no to in a bar, who wanted revenge in the nastiest way possible, was the reason why I got on Carter’s radar in the first place.

  I am confused.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me where—”

  “We’re here,” he interrupts me.

  It doesn’t get better from there. It’s a family home somewhere far from neighbors, its windows dark.

  “What the hell is going on? Who lives here?”

  “Like I said, we need to talk. Don’t worry, we won’t be alone in there. We’ve just noticed something odd lately, and there’s a good chance you can help us figure it out.”

  “How, when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

  Nick opens the door with a key and ushers me inside. It’s oddly silent. I don’t feel so good, and only a small part of it has to do with the fact that I haven’t eaten since breakfast. What is he up to, and—the billion dollar question—can we really trust him?

  “Does Carter know about this?”

  “She’ll be the first to know once she’s back from Chicago. In here.”

  In the room, my mind struggles to put the pieces together, and he locks behind me before I manage. It’s a typical bedroom, but there’s very little furniture in it. A table, two chairs, a small lamp. The blinds are closed. I don’t like this setting at all.

  “This is ridiculous. You have questions, ask me.”

  “Hi Penny,” the woman on standing by the window says. “Nice to see you again. I wish it was under different circumstances—but I’m sure we’ll be able to sort it all out in no time.”

  It’s Muriel, another one of Carter’s “contacts” who helped save Emilia, Laydon’s wife, in Zurich. She also was my bodyguard earlier this year when Carter was worried one of Laydon’s associates might come after me. I don’t understand.

  “Muriel, what is all this? If it’s about one of Carter’s projects, I don’t know a whole lot about those. I asked her. She says there’s nothing at the moment. I…I really want to go home.”

  Nick lays a hand on my shoulder. “Sit.”

  This is a nightmare, or at least a very strange disturbing dream.

  Muriel opens a manila envelope and lays out some photographs in front of me. A couple show me during the Paris trip a few months ago. Carter had a speech to give, and I explored the city by myself, ended up in a café, at a table next to this woman. We made small talk, she saw that I was looking at pictures on my phone, and recommended a store that offered beautiful frames. She went on to show me. I ended up with a lovely, personal surprise for Carter.

  “That’s…I think Cathy was her name.”

  “So you’re on a first name basis?” Muriel asks. I don’t understand the anger in her voice.

  “Wait, what are you saying? I don’t know her. She sat next to me in a café, complimented me on my photos and then told me where to buy a nice frame. She went with me to show me where it was, I had a picture printed and went to buy the frame—you can see it on Carter’s desk in the home office—that’s it.”

  “Except that’s not true,” Nick says. “It sounds like you, but…can you explain these? I really hope you can.”

  I’m wrecking my brain, thinking when I signed to make these specific transactions, but I’m not sure. I do sign off on transactions sometimes, at work, and I booked the hotel for me and Carter.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “Those are odd numbers. I’d have to check at work, and what I paid for the hotel when we went to New York, but I’m pretty sure those sums don’t add up. What does it mean? And what does it have to do with the woman in Paris?”

  “That’s too bad,” he says. “Here’s where we were hoping for a little more input from you. By the way, the FBI is now cracking down on Laurier, so there’s a good chance we’ll find out more soon. It would look a whole lot better if you came clean first.”

  “Are you crazy? Who’s Laurier? There’s nothing to come clean about, I didn’t do anything!”

  Muriel walks over to us casually. I’m about to jump to my feet when the cuffs close around my wrists.

  “Then you have nothing to worry about,” she says. “Sorry about those, but we need you to stay with us for a while.”

  “Penny, just tell the truth. Then this will be over,” Nick adds.

  I can’t help it, regardless of the fact that I know these people—or thought I knew them—the scene is too reminiscent of the nightmare on the island. They have wrong information or something, I don’t know, but they’re not going to hurt me. Are they?

  “Look, I have no idea what you are talking about,” I stress. “I saw this woman for the first time in Paris, and I didn’t spend more time w
ith her than maybe ten minutes. We talked about the photos.”

  “What did you talk about the five times she called you since you and Carter came back from Bora Bora?”

  “What? She didn’t call me!”

  “Yes, she did, damn it!”

  Nick raising his voice makes me jump, and I realize that I’m shaking. It can’t be a coincidence that they’re pulling this stunt while Carter is away in Chicago. Something went very wrong here, and I can’t help them. It’s their job to protect Carter and her business—and if they assume I have done something wrong, how far will they go to prove it?

  “We have proof, Penny,” he says, pulling the other chair for himself. “You can only help yourself now.”

  “I wish, because clearly, I can’t help you! What are you going to do, torture me?” That’s a bit extreme, I’m aware—I hope—but saying it out loud like this is scary. Muriel shakes her head. Nick looks frustrated. He gets to his feet.

  “No one’s going to torture you. All we want is the truth, and then we can all move on with our lives. Whatever reason you might have had, it will be up to you to sort that out with Carter. I want to know what Laurier did with the money, so we can hopefully find out what her agenda is. If you wanted to get back at Carter, this was not a smart way to do it.”

  “If I wanted to…what? Why? I love her. You know that. If there are any inconsistencies, we have to go check at the office. I swear I didn’t do anything!”

  “Yeah, no worries, we’ll check that.”

  He gives a pointed look to Muriel who follows him out of the room.

  “Wait!”

  The door falls into the lock. Much to my credit, I don’t start crying right away, but I’m not far from it. It’s hot and stuffy in the room, a drop of cold sweat snaking down my spine. Are they going to keep me here for three days?

  Even more importantly, are they going to tell Carter about these suspicions?

  Does she already know?

  I flash back on moments where she seemed distant, then clinging to me the next moment. Now it all makes sense—and she didn’t tell me. The tears finally come.

  I don’t have a lot of time to compose myself, because Nick and Muriel return. He sets a packaged sandwich and a diet soda in front of me.

  “Maybe that will help jog your memory. We’re going to open these cuffs now—don’t try anything.”

  His tone is almost pleasant now, but I can’t help thinking that this is the same man who broke into my apartment and drugged me, with the goal to “deliver” me to Carter.

  “Does she know about this?”

  “It’s not important. Let’s take it from the beginning. Paris. Tell me everything she said to you. Did you give her your phone number then, or was that meeting already arranged?”

  “No!”

  “Five calls, Penny! Do you have any explanation for that?”

  “No, I…I don’t. I remember that in the time after we came back, I got a lot of calls from telemarketers. I thought this was strange, since it’s a secret number, and no, I don’t share it with anyone. That’s how I try to protect our privacy. Why on earth would you think I’d steal from Carter?”

  “Maybe you were angry with her, because she kidnapped you and then showed you a life you knew you could never have without her?”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Eat your sandwich. Think hard. There’s still a chance you could be going home tonight, just be assured that we’re watching you.”

  “Watch me all you want.” I’d like to resist the lure of food, but I have to think practical. There’s no saying how much time I’m going to spend here, and oh God, they think I’d actually do this, get involved with people who want to harm Carter.

  “Did you know, Penny, that Catherine Laurier used to work with Laydon? People like her are trying to take over what’s left of his business, and destroy Carter’s, because she helped bring him down. Are you sure you want to be a part of that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My throat hurts, and I’m sure I can’t hide that I had a private little meltdown earlier. They probably watched. “I pay bills at work and at home, not the big stuff, but some. Somebody could have hacked my credit card. If there’s anyone on the inside, it’s not me.”

  What did I just say? Stupid. If there’s a spy among Carter’s employees, and it’s one of them, they might do worse than torture me. Within heartbeats, it’s becoming hard to breathe, and I only come back to reality when Muriel tells me to stop hyperventilating.

  “It’s nothing personal,” she says. “Carter has done so much to protect us. Now we’re protecting her.” With that, she walks out of the room. Nick stays.

  I was watching TV on that Friday night, having a glass of wine and looking forward to book club with the girls. We were going to choose books for the next months, and generally enjoy some BFF time. I left the room for a few minutes to take a shower, change into more comfortable clothes, and pour a little more wine into the glass.

  He was already in my apartment at that point.

  Carter swore to me that he would have never touched me, and I believed her. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m scared.

  Before any of us breaks the silence, Nick’s cell phone rings. “Excuse me,” he says curtly and leaves as well.

  They don’t come back for a long time. Not in the cuffs any longer, I get up, my knees nearly buckling. On the island, I jumped from a balcony to get away from my captor. If I can open a window, I’ll be out of here in no time. I’m not sure where to go…I have a little cash on me, hopefully enough until Carter comes back and tells me the truth about the past weeks…

  The window is locked.

  I’m a heartbeat away from a real panic attack. Since some of the experiences I’ve had on the island, I don’t tolerate being locked up very well. It’s a funny feeling, my lips tingling, my vision starting to grey out…The door opens again and I raise my hands as if that would convince anyone not to shoot me.

  “Relax, Penny, it’s me. I think it’s time to go home.”

  I think I’ve heard those words from her before, and the last time, going home was the last thing I wanted to do. Now, I’m just tumbling forward into the hug.

  “That was really stupid,” Colette Grady says. “Them, not you. Carter’s on her way here, and you can be sure she’s going to give them a piece of her mind.”

  At this point I’m not even sure if it’s a consolation to me.

  Chapter Nine

  Carter

  I am speechless. Angry. Scared of what this means for us. If I ever doubted Colette’s loyalty to me, in this instant, I know for certain on whose side she is, and that I owe her a great deal of gratitude.

  This is why Nick tried to convince me that it was absolutely necessary to go to the site in Chicago when local security staff and police were handling the situation just fine. It’s not a happy occasion, for sure, but apparently the moment I boarded that plane, all hell broke loose. Nick. Muriel. I can’t believe it. Have they lost their minds? I suppose when I told them to back off regarding Laurier, they decided to advance the case from another angle. I wish I’d never given him those ten days, and a few extra, gone to Penelope right away instead.

  I am on my private jet right now, about to land. I came back as soon as I could, yet I can’t help the feeling that in some ways, it might be too late. I need to find Penelope and assure her that while we had to look into those irregularities, I would never condone an interrogation, my staff, my people treating her like the common criminals we’ve been after. It’s inconceivable. I will have to make some drastic changes.

  During my trip home, Colette is the only one I communicate with. Penelope is home now—I’ll see her first, then I’ll deal with everyone else in person.

  Everything seems to take twice as long, getting off the plane and into the car waiting for me, the ride home. I don’t care about finding Colette first but go straight for the master bedroom.

  Pen
elope spins around, the wide-eyed, fearful expression on her face cutting straight to my soul. I vowed that I would protect her from any harm, and this is what happened. My own staff betrayed her.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry. This should have never happened.” It’s hard to ignore the elephant in the room—the open suitcase with clothes thrown in carelessly. I step forward to embrace her, but she resists.

  “You’re right, it shouldn’t have, but you didn’t do much about it, did you? I…I can’t be here right now.” She’s been crying. I am frantic to come up with anything to make her see this doesn’t have to end with one of us leaving. I can’t have her leave.

  “Let’s talk about it. I’m sure we can…” I have reason to be scared.

  “No! I don’t want to talk. You knew about this, the investigation, the woman in Paris, and you didn’t tell me! What were you thinking? That after everything we’ve been through and the countless times I told you how much I love you, I would do something like that to you? You’re beyond paranoid. Frankly, I don’t know if I can live like this.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I need some time. Please, don’t come after me. I’m not ready to talk. I’ll let you know when I am.”

  “Penelope, please, don’t leave. We can work this out.”

  She closes her suitcase, picks it up and leaves the room without any further word. For the time span of a few seconds, I feel paralyzed, then I run after her, but the front door is already falling into its lock.

  Colette stands in the foyer, giving me a sympathetic look. “You should let her go, for now, at least. It’s not easy on her.”

  “It’s not easy on me to realize that I’m surrounded by incompetent bozos,” I mutter. “Come on. I’ll need you around here, but for now, I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

  Colette raises an eyebrow, and I shake my head.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t bother her. I’ll respect her wish—and besides, I have some people to talk to.”

  “Okay. In other news, we got Laurier,” Colette says as she follows me to the BMW. “She already hinted that framing Penny was part of the plan.”

 

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